Dark Night Street
by Weaxzezz
Summary: Bellatrix has returned from Azkaban only to find that Severus is the Dark Lord's new favourite, and doesn't like it. But perhaps there's more to it than Bellatrix can understand. AU, after Azkaban escape.
1. The Move first six original chapters

**Authors note: **In accordance with the latest review I have decided to combine the first five chapters and the new sixth one into one. I have however decided to put lines between the original chapters to maintain some order. I hope this will make things better, but I warn you, it will make updates even scarcer.

* * *

A man walked alone down the silent street. His head was bent and his sighs were hollow. His coat was long, black and softly waving in the wind created by his slow movements. The collar of his coat stood high and marked his cheekbones. His black hair was tangled about his head and face and, even more than the coat, it marked his pale and shadowed face. He walked slowly with his hands in the pockets of his coat, situated just above the hips. His black, shiny and pointy leather boots made a low sound as they touched the wet stones of the street. He walked on the edge of the sidewalk, just avoiding the softly splashing water running down the street. The rain was heavy and wet, but the man did not seem to mind the cold drops of water hitting his face and running down his neck. The moon shone behind the dark clouds of night and the old streetlight cast their yellow light through the rain, from the other side of the street. The street was neither wide nor long, but in the darkness and shadow it seemed the houses were as far apart as the moon and the sun.

As the man walked slowly by the shadowed old houses a woman appeared in the other end of the street.

From afar she seemed a dark shadow in the rain, but as she came closer the man could distinguish her features. She held an umbrella in her left hand, leaning it on her shoulder and turning it slowly around. Her hair was curled upon her head and hung down on her back and shoulders. Her face, just as the mans, was shadowed and pale, but her eyes looked forwards into the dark night. As she walked on her long velvet and black coat swooshed about her body and tangled in the many folds of lace upon her long black dress. The skirt was wide and the waist softly pinched below her bosom. Her shoes were narrow and black, and the heels made a soft clicking noise as they hit the ground. Her hands were covered in black flowery lace. As she walked towards the man she seemed swooning and majestic, as her eyes gazed proudly on her surroundings.

She and the man were now only meters apart, separated by the dark only. As they came closer to each other the man raised his head.

"Hello," said the man.

"Hi," said the woman, as they turned simultaneously and walked into the shadows of a dark building.

* * *

They walked up some old stone steps that lay within the shadows of the house. The curved ceiling was filled with old spider webs, which stretched down upon the big wooden door. The door was tall and dark, the wood was cracked in places and it had no handle, but an old silver doorknocker in the shape of a dragons head. The woman bent forth and breathed upon the dragon, and the door open silently, inviting them into total darkness.

The man nodded expressionlessly at the woman and almost unnoticeably flicked his hand at the darkness beyond the doorway. The woman stepped over the threshold and was engulfed by the dark. The man smiled faintly, with a small flicker in the edges of his thin mouth and a look in his eyes which spoke mostly of melancholy, and followed the woman.

On the other side lay a small room. To the left was a small table made of dark wood and shaped like an oblong circle cut in half. There was a mirror on the wall above. On the table stood the only light source, a newly lit candle, which spread the light through a pattern of snakes which were entwined around the candle and slowly melting at the end of their tails. The dark wooden floor was covered in old carpets with strange weaves on them. There were stairs to the right, narrow and steep. You could see the old wood that they were made of, and the dragon's head that sprouted at the end of the rail stared at the newly arrived couple with wide eyes that wished for freedom to spread its wings and breathe fire upon the wizard who locked it in its present state.

There was hardly enough room for both the man and the woman in the tiny space offered them, yet they both stayed perfectly still until the door had closed behind them. The woman then turned her proud and stone carved face towards the man. Her body seemed to be turned in a spiral as the small train at the back of her dress floated down upon the floor and touched the tips of the mans shoes, while her body stood in a profile and her face was looking straight at the man. The man, however, did not look at her at first. His eyes were instead fixed in a longing stare. The woman followed his gaze and saw it looked down upon the shimmering handle of a door to his right. The door was the only thing visible between the edge of the stairs and the door through which they had entered, and it seemed to almost melt into the wall, not wanting to be seen, not wanting to be touched, not wanting to be opened.

"No." The deep, dark and slow words from the woman's lips broke the heavy silence with such brute force that the man was awakened from his trance and lifted his head to look at her. His face, heavily shadowed by his wet hair, showed no emotions at all. "Fine," he whispered, "you lead the way, Bellatrix." His words were even slower than hers, and had a sharp edge, which seemed to go for the heart with the uttering of the woman's name.

The woman turned to the left, and the illusion of her spiral was broken. She walked down a narrow and dark path to the left of the stairs, slowly but firmly, and disappeared into the darkness. The man followed.

* * *

The narrow hallway turned left beyond the stairway. The darkness was so thick that the man relied solely on the sounds of the woman's dress, as it was pressed onto the walls on her sides. They walked on like that, straight down the hallway, until suddenly the rustling of the dress disappeared and the man thought himself see her silhouette against a silvery light. The soft clicking of a door being unlocked and opened sounded in front of him, and his eyes were hit by a light that was like acid in his eyes, burning, tearing them out of their sockets. It took long before he opened his eyes again, and by then they had gotten used to the light, which had also reduced in power greatly. By now he could distinguish shapes on the other side of the door, shapes which greatly interested him.

"You could have warned me," he said to the woman, as he stepped over the threshold. "I saw no reason to," answered the woman, and followed him. "So, this is it?" the man asked, and bent forth to look closer upon the thing of his interest. "Obviously," answered the woman and rolled her eyes in cold mockery.

A round object, almost like a large bubble about 15o centimeters in diameter, sat upon the point of something which looked like a very, very sharp piece of crystal. Inside the bubble, a little bit under its centre, sat a small circular disk of mirror glass. The glass pulsated out light, which bounced of the walls of the bubble, and with each bounce it let out light, which then bounced of the walls of the room, until it escaped through the door. Around the bubble, drawn on the floor, were too circles, one smaller and one larger, and in between those lines were the twelve numbers of a clock, written in roman numerals.

"You've had access to this all along?" the man asked, without taking his eyes of the light. "Yes," the woman answered.

* * *

"And you never thought that we might use it, right? You forgot that it even existed, because it is just _so_ hard to miss." He looked upon Bellatrix with an expression of shining disdain. "Shut up, Snape. Of course I thought about it, but I really just wanted to keep it for myself, if you must know. But then, at the last meeting… Well, I just thought it would be good." Severus smiled at her, a great, shining, triumphant smile. "You feel sorry for the Dark Lord!" He laughed, and then continued. "Dear Bellatrix, I knew you had somewhat stronger feelings about our master than perhaps considered acceptable, but to feel _sorry_ for him… You must really have issues."

The woman had clenched fists, and her face was tensed beyond any normal measures. She bit her lower lip, and her chin pushed forwards, making her face a grotesque imitation of a bulldog. She shook her head and smiled. "Let's just do this."

And so, they took positions opposite each other, with the shining globe in the middle, the woman in the west and the man in the east. The woman pulled out a locket, and placed it upon the globe. It opened slowly, and within it was complete darkness. Their eyes met, and the light from the mirror stopped pulsating. It shone persistently in their eyes, lighting up their faces beyond recognition. They both took out their wands and placed it upon the bubbles surface; the man above the number three and the woman above the number nine. Their wands glowed in darkest reds and greens, their hands shook in effort to hold them in place, and as it all seemed to get too much for them, it all stopped.

The room was dark, nothing was visible. The blinded eyes of their shocked faces rolled desperately over the darkness in search for the world they knew they were in. Minutes passed, perhaps more than twenty, before they regained their normal sight. "Lumos," whispered the man. Stars still danced before their eyes, but in the dim light of his wand they saw the outlines of a dark room. The mirror no longer reflected, it was just a blank surface, still and dull.

When the woman put her lace clothed hand upon the globe the man simply lifted it of. "No, I'll take it." He touched the globe with his slim fingers and apparated.

* * *

Bellatrix arrived seconds after Severus. They were in a dark stone room, judging by the stairs that led up to a door, a cellar. The ceiling was low, with even lower vaults between what must be considered rooms. There was dust everywhere, thick dust from the mortar on the walls which by age had crumbled under the weight of the house which it supported. The stair stood against a wall, the end of it curved out into the room. The rail was nothing more than thin steel lines and the holds were cracked and old. As the woman and the man slowly walked up the stairs none of them dared hold on to it. It could barely hold the pressure from the woman skirt, and dust fell from the holds in big chunks. The woman, who naturally walked first, slowly turned the handle of the wooden door. Light shone through the cracks between the boards, and from underneath. As she opened the door a pair of red gleaming eyes turned towards her.

"So you have returned." The voice of the man with the red eyes was slow, calculating. His face was pale as a sheet of paper, the same sickly unnatural colour. He sat, quite relaxed, in a chair by a door. He wore long black robes, which obscured any inkling you might have of the shape of his body. Not that you would want to know, though. The woman looked upon the pale man with immense happiness, success shone through her eyes as she bowed before him. "My lord," she said, "it awaits you." The Dark Lord smiled upon her, and rose from his chair. "You have been very good", he said as he with his fingers guided her face to face his, "but we must not forget that Severus also helped." He turned towards Severus and bent his neck slowly, only a few millimetres, to show his supposed gratitude. "You shall come with me now Severus," he said, and they turned towards the still open door. "Stay here Bellatrix, we shall return soon."

The woman did not move, only stared into empty space before her. Her eyes were wide, almost sad, and her mouth was slightly open. Then she took a deep breath, and looked around. She remembered this room, yes… Its dark wooden floor glimmered in the light of the fireplace; the walls heavy brocade pattern engulfed the light before it could reach the ceiling. She had memories here, sweet, wonderful memories.

* * *

_Bellatrix stood by the door, she wore a coat and an adorable pair of earmuffs. As Rodolphus looked upon her he got the strangest thought. How could something so adorable be so cruel? However, he smiled and stretched his arm out. __He and Bellatrix exited the door, and apparated quickly, before anyone noticed them. Not that any muggles would believe it if they saw it, but it was always best to be careful._

As Bellatrix waited for her master and his servant to return, she thought of that day, the last day of freedom before her incarceration. Even if she knew at that time what was ahead of her she would do it, do it for him, do it for the Dark Lord. She would do anything he asked, yet lately, he asked nothing of her. She was the one who gave him the Light, but he would not allow her to move it herself. Since it was hers, he could do nothing else but give her the task, but of course, she had to be accompanied by that idiot Snape. She had always thought him a disgusting man, more like an eel than a snake, not worthy of his place as the Dark Lords new favourite. And what had she done to deserve being pushed down from her place? She had sat in that prison for years, rotting away from the inside, living only for the hope that one day, however long away it was, she would see his face again, see the face of her master, her love. But he had not looked upon her like he used to. He had looked upon her with empty eyes. No pride, no gratitude, nothing.

_The red eyes gazed upon her face as a tiny curvature of his lips appeared. He stroked her cheek and let his fingers trail down her neck to place his hand on her bosom. Her heart beat faster and she dared not breathe. As his lips pressed upon hers she closed her eyes and a tear trailed down her cheek. Not a bad tear,__ but a tear of joy, of fulfilment. That evening had been the most wonderful evening of her life._

As the door to the cellar opened Bellatrix wiped a tear from her cheek. The Dark Lord did not even look at her as he walked past her and said "Tomorrow, midnight." As the door closed behind him she looked quizzically upon Severus. "He was very pleased, very pleased indeed," said Severus and smiled towards Bellatrix. Bellatrix kept a stern face and spoke nothing. She and Severus walked trough the hall and out the door, down the path and out the gate. "Good night," Severus said, and apparated away. Bellatrix gazed into the night and then silently apparated to the same dark street which she had walked earlier that night.

The rain was still pouring, but she did not mind. She let it run down her face, neck and body, let it cool her and mix with her tears. When there were no tears left she walked into her house. She walked up the stairs in the dark, drying off with her wand as she slowly ascended to the upper floor. She turned right and walked a few more metres down the hall until she entered a room to the left. Silently she took of her clothes and lay in the bed. She could feel the heat of Rodolphus, and lay herself close beside him. He did not know of her tears and her memories, and he did not know what she had done that night.


	2. Deprived

**A/N:** Yay! A new chapter, finally! This one is a bit shorter, but whatever, I'll make up for it.

* * *

As Severus disappeared into the tunnel in front of her she once again felt rage inside of herself. She couldn't stand the way he gloated, the way he rubbed it in her face. How could it be, that Severus had taken her place as Voldemort's favourite? Yes, she thought, it was amazing the way he had slithered into Dumbledore's lap. A bit too amazing actually. Why couldn't the Dark Lord see that? Why didn't he see he was being betrayed? She hardly dared to admit it to herself, but for the first time in her life, she doubted his abilities. Severus had fooled him, but she dared not voice it.

She turned around and started walking. She had nowhere to go, but no reason to stay either. The ground was still wet from last week's heavy rainfalls, and from time to time she stepped in mud, rather than on gravel. Normally this would have irritated her, but at this time she didn't care. It felt good to walk, without purpose, without thought. It was getting darker around her, and the shadows of the coniferous trees swallowed more of the path she was walking on. It was in the outskirts of wherever it was Snape lived – he had proposed they meet there, rather than in his home. For what reason he hadn't given, but she had no choice but to go along with it. He was just going to give her some information from the Dark Lord, so it wasn't really a big thing. It did perplex her though. The Dark Lord was a busy man, but he usually had time to meet her, one of his favourites. She hadn't seen him since that night, almost two weeks ago. He hadn't looked at her properly since she got back from Azkaban. Bellatrix didn't know it, but the truth was that he had tried his hardest to ignore her.

* * *

_There were three people sitting on chairs in the dark hallway. The light was dim, a greenish sort of glow that reflected off the walls behind the single lamp which stood on a small, spindly table by the wall opposite an old, wooden door. Suddenly a white light, brighter than anything the three people had ever seen before, penetrated the cracks in the door, shone out from underneath it and exploded into the room, making the light from the lamp completely obsolete. In the same moment, one of the people fell to the floor with a loud thud and another quickly kneeled beside the shaking figure, turning its face upwards. The light hit the extremely pale face of a woman, reflected in a sickly sort of way from her eyes and the tears flowing from them. Her eyes were open wide, fixed on a point in the air in front of her. Her lips moved fast, almost inaudible whispers came from them. She was shaking more violently for every second that passed, the hands that held her face upwards towards the light slipped in her tears and as her head hit the floor everything stopped. The room was again dark, the figure on the floor didn't move._

"Bella! Bella!" The same hands clutched her face again, but this time there were no tears on it. She shoved them off with a violent swing of her arm, lace hit lace as it rubbed against Narcissa's wrists. "Don't Cissa, I'm not going to die, just leave it, ok?" Her voice was icy cold, but a faint crackle could be heard, like splintered wood in her otherwise velvety voice. As Bella rose from the hardwood floor she looked as gracious as ever, brushing off her taffeta and lace dress, pulling a strand of hair out of her face and back into its place, but when she turned to leave her eyelids fluttered and her eyes went misty and she had to take a deep breath to regain control of herself. She ignored her sister's hand on hers and walked out of the room.

* * *

White, long fingers drummed on the arm of the chair like a spiders legs tapping on a wall. The hand shone brightly in the light of the fire, blue veins splattered aggressively over its surface. The face of the man was in shadow, yet a white blur could be seen through the dark, red eyes gleaming and glittering like jewels. The figure was strong, yet slender. The long neck curved and the face turned towards the right and looked into the mirror. Red eyes met themselves in the dark and an invisible smile perused the man's lips. It was long since he had last felt so strong, so powerful, so… alive.

He would have thanked Bellatrix, rewarded her for her sacrifice, but he couldn't. He was afraid.

* * *

The china was very delicate, enamelled in green and gold. The tea in the cup had grown cold hours ago, yet it still sat there on the table, untouched since it was brought there, undisturbed by the red lips of the woman to the right. Her eyes stared blankly into the shadows of the small room, bloodshot and dim. A tear of pure exhaustion trickled down her cheek, slowly, gently, towards her chin. As her heavy eyelids began to fall the door swung open and a dark whisper carried through the dust. "Bella?" The woman slapped open her eyelids and twisted swiftly from her chair. She felt her hand against the cup and watched it fall towards the carpet, without even trying to stop it. It hit the floor and broke, tea and tiny pieces of china splattered everywhere. Bellatrix winced slightly as it crashed into the carpet, feeling the blow like it was right inside of her. She looked up at Rodolphus as if to speak but proceeded to sigh instead. With a flick of his wand he made the cup mend itself and fly back onto the table. When he spoke it was with a softness not heard for a very long time. "Let's go to bed, come on."

"The tea…" Bellatrix's whimper died away as they passed the doorway and Rodolphus' arm closed around her.

* * *

A misty light hung in the room as daylight trickled in from behind the curtains. Severus leaned over his coffee table and shuffled some papers at random, his thoughts elsewhere. He remembered the dark shadow of Bellatrix's body in the hall, how they all had looked at him like he was in some way guilty. He had walked out of the house without saying anything. He would have liked to have told them right there and then, but he couldn't say anything, if he did... He might as well kill himself and spare the Dark Lord the trouble. He hadn't meant to know, but he sometimes couldn't stop it. When the Dark Lord had flinched at her name, he had to see why, he had to get inside his head. He had had trouble disguising his surprise, but had gotten away with it in the end. Being the Dark Lord's favourite had its advantages.

His closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His body ached of lack of sleep, every muscle was in protest, every brain cell struggled to stay awake. He rubbed his face with his hands and felt them get slippery with grease. He yawned as he threw off his shoes and lay down in the sofa, pulling his cloak over his face to keep the light away.

* * *

Bellatrix sat at the end of the table. They ate in silence, as they always did these days, but Bellatrix wasn't just silent – she was empty. Her neck was bent forwards, she looked down onto the table, but occasionally her eyes flickered up to send a nervous look at one of the others. She didn't eat much anymore, it felt unnecessary to be there at all, and she didn't understand why her sister had to force her down from her room every evening. She couldn't take their looks of understanding, their fear that she might faint again and their constant and obvious discontent at having her amongst them. She knew they hated it, because so did she.

She decisively but silently put down her fork and stood up. Everyone paused and turned their eyes towards her, but not their heads. As she moved from the room their eyes returned to their plates, and as the door closed behind her they continued in silence.

She stopped outside the door. As her hands clutched themselves below her bosom she closed her eyes and began to cry. Tears streamed down her face like the black hair flowing down on her shoulders. She wore a grey dress with an empire waistline. The satin flowed smoothly over her thin, shivering body and as she walked through the hallway she clutched her skirt frantically, revealing delicate grey, lace covered slippers beneath. Grey light simmered through the windows in the entry hall, making a perfect image of dullness and misery. As Bellatrix slumped down onto one of the chairs the door swung open. Bellatrix quickly composed herself and wiped the tears from her face, but there was no way to fool the man that entered the room.

* * *

Severus stopped and as the door swung shut behind him he tilted his head and looked, quite blankly, at Bellatrix. His cloak wrapped itself around his figure smoothly, the tip of a shiny, black shoe, protruding from beneath it. "Not at dinner?" he asked, quite calmly. Bellatrix looked at him with dead eyes for a few seconds, then looked out of the window and onto the driveway. She wanted to go back to her own home, but Narcissa insisted she stay. Severus footsteps echoed on the walls. Before he reached the stairs Bellatrix had caught up with him and a hand wrapped around his arm. He looked down at her, just as blankly as he had done when he entered. "I'll be in the library, come as soon as you're done. Please." There was a pleading in her voice not even Severus could ignore. A muscle twitched in his forehead and then he turned silently and walked up the stairs. Bellatrix stood like a statue on the spot before turning swiftly into a room to her right.

There was a big difference between the Bellatrix Severus had met on the street that rainy night only two weeks ago, and the one who had pleaded to him in the hall one half an hour ago. As he stood alone in the hall again, he thought about what he saw more and more in the Dark Lord every time they met, and as he made his decision he closed his eyes and opened the door to the library.

* * *

Bellatrix stood by the window in the far end of the room, gazing out of the window at the rain that now fell softly in the garden outside. As the door clicked shut behind Severus she turned around, and even though she was grey, thin and sallow the same pride and decisiveness that had once shone on her face so strongly now glinted in her features. "I need you to take me home," she said, "I won't stay here any longer. Take me home." Severus looked at her in silence for a few seconds, then turned and opened the door, waiting for her to step out before him. She walked past him and as they crossed the hall together her steps were once again strong. The rain was pouring over them like a big, grey waterfall as they walked up the driveway, and as they went out through the gate Bellatrix took a strong hold around Severus' arm before being compressed in total darkness.

The street before them was long, grey and empty. They walked in silence. Severus' cloak flapped behind him, Bellatrix's dress was soaked and stuck to her figure, flapping about her calves. Her hair lay flat against her back, but she didn't mind. The rain ran down her chest, into her cleavage and trickled over her waist. As they turned into the doorway she stopped and looked down at the floor, an almost inaudible whisper shivered through the air. "You'll have to do it." Severus breathed upon the dragon doorknocker and the door swung open. They stepped inside and the door closed behind them. As Severus eyes once again swung longingly to the door on the right he spoke slowly. "I need to tell you something." This time it was Bellatrix who stared blankly. "I never meant to know, but," he hesitated, then drew his eyes from the door and looked at Bellatrix with the faintest hint of a smile, "when you were away, when you were in Azkaban, he," he paused again and lay a hand on the handle to the front door, "he missed you."


	3. Honesty and Death

As the door closed behind Severus Bellatrix closed her eyes. When they opened again tears started to trickle down her cheeks, and an expression of great pain forced its way over her face. It was then, in that moment, that she decided.

Her hand moved towards the handle of the door which Severus had gazed upon so longingly only seconds before, and without looking at it herself, she pushed the door open. She still stood in the same spot, staring at the tiny, grimy window above the front door, staring in to the grey light which was all too bright for her eyes, but all too dark to light up the hallway. As she started to shiver in her wet dress she turned her eyes towards the door to her left. Through the half-open door came a light as grey as that from the sky outside, but as clear and bright as sparkling diamonds. She slowly turned towards the door, and silently walked through it, gently closing it behind her. She had not been in this room for a very long time. The grey light which had shone in strong and bright rays through the open door fell like water from the ceiling and hit everything with the same force as a strong gust of wind. Bellatrix pressed her forehead against the door and closed her eyes, and felt the unnatural warmth of the grey light press down upon her.

For the first time since that night when she had lost her powers, she felt safe and tears started to trickle down her cheeks again. The door slowly closed and the lock clicked as the door magically locked itself, shutting her in. The room was small, windowless and empty, except for a wooden table in the middle. On the table lay a gun, a revolver, much like you would see in any old action film, except this gun was entirely made of silver. The silver was old, darkened and had long since lost its shine, only on the trigger a faint glimmer could still be seen. As Bellatrix approached the table, her wet dress still sticking to her body, her hair still hanging sorrowfully over her chest, the revolver rose into the air and hovered in front of her. As her crying became panicked, uncontrollable and her eyes were blinded by tears she reached out and took the gun in her hand. Her fingers closed around it slowly, caressing its cold, dry surface. Then suddenly the gun relied solely on her hand to stay in the air, and Bellatrix almost dropped it, clenching it in fright. Shaking wildly she held it to her head, as her mother had done before her and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened – she was playing Russian roulette with herself.

* * *

There was a faint sound in the distance, a rasping sort of noise, and before long there was shouting and banging outside the door. "Bella, Bella, no, come out! He wants to see you, now; the Dark Lord is calling for you!" The voice was that of her sister, shrill and tearing through the silence. Bellatrix hesitated for a moment, then sank to the floor, still sobbing, the gun in her lap. The door clicked behind her as the lock unlocked itself and Narcissa burst through it. "Bella, get up!" she shouted and pulled her sister by the waist. The gun fell to the floor with a thump and the scene paused for a moment as Narcissa looked at it, her mouth slightly open and her eyes widening in frightened realization. Soon she composed herself and continued dragging her sister out into the hallway and through the front door, ignoring the gun which lay abandoned on the floor as the door to the room automatically swung shut and the rain of grey light disappeared.

As soon as the sisters had passed through the front door Narcissa apparated, holding her sister steady by her side. As they appeared again Bellatrix composed herself and walked alone towards the door. Entering the same hallway from where Bellatrix had her sweetest memories they were met by Severus, who took Bellatrix by the arm and silently led her into a room to the left. As soon as they were through the door Severus let go of her arm and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The room was filled with a warm light coming from a large fireplace in the other end. It was scarcely decorated, but the black and grey striped wallpaper was enough to give a majestic impression. The ceiling was high above them, and on the shimmering chandelier lay thick layers of dust. There was a table set against the wall on Bellatrix's left, and on her right was a sofa. The low light cast long shadows, and the room was as much in darkness as it was in light. Before her stood the Dark Lord, his features cast in shadow, his eyes shining at her through the dark.

Bellatrix shivered from head to toe, from cold, from sadness and from fear. "My L-lord," she stuttered and bowed her head, but before she had lifted it again his hand was on hers. His cold, long and claw-like grip feeling warm and comforting on her ice-cold, clenched hands. She slowly looked up into his face and as her eyes got used to the light she saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before. Warmth. Staring into his face tears began to burn again and as she started sobbing he led her to the sofa, and sat her down, still holding her hands in his without doubt. He sat down beside her, close to her, and she could feel his warmth through her wet dress as his arms closed around her body and held her to him. She stopped crying immediately. Looking up at him from her place on his chest she looked scared, shocked and confused.

He looked down upon her and smiled. He bent down and she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he hugged her, held her and comforted her. Bellatrix didn't know how to handle this. Yes, she was angry and sad that she had gotten no recognition from her Lord since her return from Azkaban, but _this_? It was surreal, uncharacteristic and unbelievable, but she could do nothing about it – he was still her master. "Thank you." The words were not Bellatrix's, but a cold whisper from the lips of the Dark Lord. With these words Bellatrix was once again brought to tears from the immense emotional strain put upon her. Soon however, the Dark Lord let go of her and looked her in the eyes with the same cold, cruel and empty eyes as always. The flash of green came before she had time to hear the words, which instead echoed in the room like the dirtiest insult. "_Avada Kedavra_"

* * *

A man walked alone down the silent street. His head was bent and his sighs were hollow. His coat was long, black and softly waving in the wind created by his slow movements. The collar of his coat stood high and marked his cheekbones. His black hair was tangled about his head and face and, even more than the coat it marked his pale and shadowed face. His black, shiny and pointy leather boots made a low sound as they touched the wet stones of the street. He walked on the edge of the sidewalk, just avoiding the softly splashing water running down the street. The rain was heavy and wet, but the man did not seem to mind the cold drops of water hitting his face and running down his neck. The moon shone behind the dark clouds of night and the old streetlight cast their yellow light through the rain, from the other side of the street. The street was neither wide nor long, but in the darkness and shadow it seemed the houses were as far apart as the moon and the sun.

As the man walked slowly by the shadowed old houses he was weighed down by the black shape he held in his arms. Out of the tangled black fabric hung a silvery grey shimmer of lace, almost sweeping the setts as the motion from the steps of the man swung it back and forth. The rain soaked the black fabric, which clung to the body of a dead woman. It lay over her face and neck, her head resting on the man's arm. A strand of once curly black hair peeked through the folds of the fabric, and was barely distinguishable, black on black in the dark rain.

The man turned into the shadows of a dark building, and lifted his head to meet the eyes of the man who stood there. The man in the doorway looked at him with cold eyes, and the man from the rain returned the look, and handed the body to the man in the doorway. "Covering her up, Severus? She would gladly face death, and I gladly face her," said the man and with a flick of his wand the black fabric no longer covered the face of the woman.

The eyelids were heavy over the eyes which no one had closed, and the mouth was open. The skin was as grey as the dress, and as wet. The hair hung from the head like it was pulling away from her, the curls stretched and tangled. Her eyes were still swollen from the crying, and had it not been for the rain the tears would still linger on her cheeks.

Severus looked down on the body with a tired look, and turned away, out into the ever-pouring rain.

* * *

A/N: I realize this is a bit shorter than the other two chapters, but the end came sooner than I thought. I don't know if I like this story at all, but perhaps you did. Thank you for reading all the way through, anyway. Tell me what you thought if you like. Does it make any sense? I have to confess I did no revisions on this last part, I can't bring myself to read it.

Ps. Sorry for all the crying.


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